Fire-Crotched Mascot Mania

September 28 - 2006

Fire-Crotches
When an alien race of the future mines our cultural past, it will be the international sporting event mascots that confirm their suspicions: we’re morons. Yesterday, the red-headed twin mascots for Euro 2008 were unveiled, and this in the same week as the five freaks of the Beijing ‘08 Olympics greeted the world. The Euro twins have no name as yet, and fans are being asked to vote for one of the following: Zagi and Zigi, Flitz and Blitz, or Trix and Flix. In addition to this list, may we suggest the write-in candidates, Shit and Shite.

Congratulations
Apparently, going into this weekend, all six of the scheduled MLS matches will have playoff implications. This begs the question: what the hell have they been doing for the past six months?

The MLS suits, meanwhile, are no doubt slapping high-fives for having crafted such parity. Through Castro like manipulation they have delivered the anti-NASL-Holy-Grail: a league where anyone can win the championship, even if they are utter crap. This last day of the season excitement is a false construct, and demeans the accomplishments of teams like DC United. If we were they, we might consider boycotting the playoffs and declaring ourselves title holders.

Barring that, we’re rooting for Colorado, if only because we want Mastroeni to hump his shirt on national television.

Immigration Problem
Last weekend’s Newcastle-Everton match gave us our first look at on-loan striker, Giuseppe Rossi. The word on Rossi is he’s an exceptional finisher, if not the best on Manchester United’s roster. Through 10 minutes with the Magpie’s, Rossi looked to fit the bill. He was quick, energetic, and twice hit balls that looked like they would have troubled Tim Howard were it not for deflections. Also, we hate him.

Rossi is an American, born here and transplanted to Italy at age 13. His professed “goal” is to play for the Azzurri, and he has continually spurned the advances of the US National Team. He even turned down the chance to appear in this summer’s World Cup, to which we say: vafancullo .

Seriously, though, 13 years and this country can’t sink its teeth in? I blame his youth coach: one visit to Chucky Cheese would have put this kid in stars and bars.